


A Little Mischief

by SecondSilverKey



Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Gen, Idiots in Love, Sofi is a sex demon, Thire is a fairytale prince, Thire is a sweet shy studious boy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-26
Updated: 2020-09-22
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:13:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26115496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SecondSilverKey/pseuds/SecondSilverKey
Summary: Commander Thire meets a new friend who happens to share a hobby and a sense of humor. Rating likely to change.Set in the Fox/Mouse au-verse created by DetroitbyDark who graciously allows me to write for her characters.
Relationships: CC-4477 | Thire/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 9
Kudos: 22





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set in DetroitbyDark's AU-verse. Contains references to her story It Comes to You On Silent Feet. Go read it!!!

It was the third shooting this week, and they’d just lost another patient. Endless compressions later, Sofi was exhausted and frustrated. And absolutely covered in blood. The doctor had to go declare another patient, so Sofi slipped outside for a little caf, just to clear her head for five minutes. Jorah popped out with her and they leaned against the door for a bit in silence. He was her favorite work friend because he had the same sense of humor, which was evident when a pair of red and white armored troopers walked out of the Emergency Department exit.

“I dare you to go give your comm to one of them.” He nodded towards the two men.

“Jorah, I’m at work. You’re gonna get me called in to HR.”

“Well you and I are on break and we’re technically not in the hospital so...debatable. You’re just scared.”

“Am not.”

“Are too. You’re scared to put yourself out there.”

“Am not!”

The troopers were waiting for a pickup at the end of the landing platform that stretched from the building. Giving her comm frequency to a random man in uniform was usually right up her alley, in terms of risk taking, but she tried to be professional when she was working. But they’d had a terrible day, and she wanted to start a little mischief. The worst he could do was say no. Or arrest her. Now that would be fun. She made a rude gesture at Jorah, shook her hair out of its bun, and started towards the men, shooting a suggestive look over her shoulder on the way. Scrubs weren’t really her most flattering look, but she’d make do for now.

“Excuse me, trooper.” They turned to look, helmets swiveling. Sofi honed in on the one nearest to her, who’d crossed his arms defensively.

“Red looks good on you, but I think it would look better on my floor.” The nearer man remained a statue, while the other was obviously trying to stifle laughter under his helmet. “If I gave you my comm, would you call me?”

Farther trooper elbowed his buddy. “Come on, Thire,” he said, “the lady wants a date.”

The lady didn’t really want a date, but she wasn’t one to turn down a dare.

“Why don’t you think about it?” she persisted, “Give me your hand.” The unnamed trooper elbowed her target again and an object fell from under one of the nearer man’s arms. A book. Not a datapad, an actual book made of flimsi sewn and glued together. She didn’t know anyone else who didn’t read on a datapad. Sofi’s grandmother had given her troves of books when she was a girl, and she’d devoured them. Swiftly, she bent and picked it up. There was obviously more to him than met the eye. Not many men she knew read antique romance novels. Her plan changed as she handed it back to him.

“I know a place I think you’ll like. This is my comm frequency.” She tugged on his hand and he acquiesced the appendage to her grasp. Removing his glove, she uncapped her pen with her teeth and scribbled her frequency on his palm.

“I’m off in two cycles, call me when you’re not on duty and we’ll have some fun.” Sofi gave him her most winning smile, ready for a line, a laugh, a flirty comment, anything.

“I’ll think about it,” he said, softly, and turned away. Their ride was here. She strode back towards the hospital, feeling their eyes on her back, which was her plan all along. Idly, she wondered what he’d look like under that red and white helmet. Stupid, she thought. They all looked the same.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Stone hadn’t stopped laughing since they left the platform.

“You really turned my day around, vod,” he wheezed, in between laughs, “I’d be jealous, but I think you need this more than me.”

“Shut up,” Thire replied, just grateful his bucket was on to hide what must be a furious blush. He could still feel where she scribbled her number on his hand. The woman hadn’t even told him her name.

They’d all breathed a sigh of relief when Mouse had discharged from the hospital. Senator Amidala had whisked her off to Naboo that morning. Stone and Thire had been the last watch before she left. Fox was still acting strange about the whole incident, and none of them knew why.

Thire hoped it wasn’t what he thought, but the longer his brother avoided her, the more evidence he had. He thought Fox was a better man than that. Her nightmares weren’t improving and she wouldn’t talk to anyone about what happened. He and Fox had always shared the responsibility of being the _ori’vod_ , but now Thire felt like he had to bear it all himself. So right now, a distraction was welcome, no matter now embarrassing.

He was pretty sure her proposition was a joke, but she was so pretty he didn’t even care. Not pretty, gorgeous. Even spattered in what appeared to be blood. Force knows he’d seen enough of it. Two days later he found himself sitting on the side of his bunk in his blacks, staring down at his comm. He’d been looking at it for an hour now, debating whether to comm that nurse from the other day. One one hand, it could be fun. But he didn’t know where she wanted to take him. Or she could turn him down, laugh at him. But he didn’t have that much to lose, and it was his day off after all. Okay, here went nothing.

“This is Commander Thire. I’m supposed to comm you on your day off?” And he waited. And waited. Then came a chime from his comm. “Meet me at these coordinates at 1500. No need to wear your armor. ;)”

No need to wear armor? He didn’t have anything else to wear besides his dress uniform. Civilian clothes weren’t something they could wear out and about on Coruscant. Or afford. It was a precious day off, and he was oddly excited to spend it with someone he’d never spoken more than a sentence to. Someone who didn’t have the same face as him. Stone had finally stopped popping off about it yesterday - Thire usually wasn’t one to rise to his jabs, but it seemed that being around Fox and Mouse had rubbed off on him.

Despite her request, he wore his armor anyway, since he didn’t have anything else and he loathed his dress greys. They made his _gett’se_ itch and pinched his neck. The red and white plastoid was practically a second skin after all these years of training in it, working in it, and occasionally even sleeping in it. It was his oldest friend aside from his batchmates.

Thire also looked up the coordinates she sent. One couldn’t be too careful these days, not knowing where civilians stood on the ‘issue’ of the clone army. To his surprise, he’d been there before. On official Guard business, no less. A few weeks ago some punks had tried to break into an old bookstore down in the levels. They’d thrown a brick through the window and Thire helped the wizened old shop lady sweep up the broken transparisteel so she didn’t hurt herself. Not much had been taken, as the little store was stuffed with floor-to-ceiling shelves of real flimsi books and her till was almost empty. He wondered then - and still did - how she stayed in business. Giza, the old woman, had offered him any book he wanted. Having only read training manuals and required reading for flash training, he hadn’t known where to start. He’d never read for pleasure before. Giza finally took pity on him and handed him her favorite. _Knights of the Old Republic_. He’d devoured it.

Thire was looking forward to going back, and strangely smug at knowing the secret. But he couldn’t help but sweat nervously in his armor the whole way to the location. Again, he was intensely grateful that he hadn’t decided to wear his dress greys. He pulled his speeder up in front of Giza’s store, early as usual. Except his date was already there. Earlier than him? That _never_ happened. Taking a little more time than was necessary to park and dismount, he snuck a few looks at her. She certainly was not in her work uniform this time. Burgundy leggings and a matching cropped top set off her dark skin. The ensemble left little to the imagination, but he found that he didn’t much mind. He reminded himself to keep her eyes on her face, which fortunately wasn’t hard since she was wearing that same cheeky smile as two days ago at the med center. 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sofi watched Thire pull up in front of the shop. She found herself excited to surprise him with her favorite bookshop, rocking back on her heels. Giza must be in the back of the building; she hadn’t come out to say hello as she usually did. _I wish I was as fat as the first time I thought I was fat_ , she thought, studying herself in the remaining window. At least her hair was clean today; it hung to her waist, shiny and black as deep space. And she wasn’t covered in someone else’s blood. Although Sofi was certain some man somewhere was into that. She shuddered and pulled herself out of her musings. Commander Thire was striding towards her in that blasted armor she’d told him not to wear. It seemed to her like it must be uncomfortable but boy did it do _things_ for a man’s body.

“Hey there,” she greeted.

“Hey,” he replied, taking off his helmet.

“Sofi,” she said, and stuck out her hand awkwardly.

“Thire.” He gave her a firm handshake and looked her in the eye. The intensity she saw there made her stomach flip.

“So I don’t have to call you Commander?” she asked.

“No, ma’am,” he replied, with a touch of cheekiness himself. So he did have a sense of humor. Useful.

They were interrupted by Giza’s voice, surprisingly rich and loud for such a tiny woman. Sofi thought Giza would greet her first, but to her surprise, the wrinkled Sullustan went straight for the man to her right.

“Commander Thire,” she tutted, “Have you finished my latest recommendation yet?” He ducked his head, embarrassed.

“Not yet, Giza.” Reaching up, she pinched his cheek and Sofi stifled a laugh behind her hand.

“It’s alright son, I know you Guard boys have been working night and day. But you’re almost to the best part!”

Huge glittering eyes looked from Thire to Sofi and back, obviously putting two and two together. She crossed her chubby arms and looked to Sofi. “So how did you two meet?”

“Oh, I told him that his armor would look better on my floor. He took the bait,” she said, winking at Thire. He looked away.

Giza just laughed. “That’s my Sofi alright. Watch out, Commander, she’s a wild one.”

Sofi rolled her eyes. “This place was supposed to be a surprise, but it seems that you and the Commander have already met.”

“Oh, yes,” Giza replied, “he helped me after those boys broke my window a few weeks ago.”

It made sense. The Coruscant Guard and a few other clone battalions were helping the absolutely incompetent and corrupt Coruscant police with the uptick in crime. He could’ve just taken a report and been on his way, but by the way Giza was doting on him, he must have helped a lot more than that.

“How wholesome of him.”

“I’m right here,” he said, nudging Giza good-naturedly.

“We know, son.”

“Shall we?” Sofi changed the subject. She was eager to start browsing. He gestured for her to enter first, his soft bootfalls telling her he was close behind.

The shop was tight, packed to the brim with shelves of aged books. Thire seemed nervous, embarrassed even, and all it did was endear him to her. Or maybe it was the fact that Giza seemed to love him. She wasn’t this warm with everyone. They started to browse, close together in the tight shelving. Pulling one off the shelf, she opened it reverently, put her face close to the pages and inhaled. He was watching her, she could feel it. Sofi didn’t mind.

“What?” she asked, eyeing him over the top of the pages.

“What are you doing?” His eyes narrowed.

“You’ve never smelled an old flimsi book before?”

“Uh...no.”

“Try it.” She smiled softly at him, trying to get him to trust her, nodding a little.

A skeptical look passed over his handsome face, but he lowered his head to the book he was holding and took a long sniff. Warm, wide brown eyes closed for a moment and then met hers again.

“Smells like...dust.” He shut the book with a laugh.

“Rude,” she retorted and made a face at him, “It’s a thing!”

That earned her a wide smile before he continued browsing, edging toward the Romance section. It was kind of adorable, even if it wasn’t her genre of choice. Tinkling noises came from the back of the shop, followed by a kettle whistling. She could kill for some tea right now, just a little hit of energy and warmth to go with her book. Somehow she’d restrained herself to just one. _The Testaments_. Ancient feminist lit. Sofi tended not to branch out in her choices. Just as she was about to peek over at Thire’s pick, Giza emerged from the back with a tray of cups and a large onyx teapot. The woman set it on a small table tucked into the back corner of the room and beckoned them over. Sofi and Thire exchanged a look before making their way to the small table. Sofi chuckled internally - she wasn’t sure how the Commander was going to fit at the tiny table, which was made for someone approximately a quarter of his size.

“Sit!” She motioned for them to be seated at the petite table and chairs. With as much grace as the tall man could muster, he sank down the the floor and rested, cross-legged by the table. Sofi folded her long limbs as best she could into the small chair next to Giza’s. She leaned over to see the book he’d picked in his lap.

“Talk!” she exclaimed, and waddled into the back of the shop. Neither of them could contain their laughter at this point, and it sputtered out of both of them for a few moments before it got quiet again.

“So what do you like to do besides reading and propositioning strangers in uniform?” Sofi felt her eyes widen a bit. Bold, but she could give as good as she got.

“Drink!” they heard, muffled, from wherever Giza was buried in the back rooms.

“I’m not a big tea person,” he said, eyeing the pot and cups warily. She reached for the pot and poured three cups, assuming Giza would be back to meddle some more in a few minutes, and took a sip from hers.

“Well, Giza isn’t going to let you out of here without trying it.” He made a little hmmph-ing noise but reached for his cup anyway.

“Better than stims, I guess.” It….wasn’t good. Thire met her eyes over their cups, a concerned look in his eye. It was obvious he agreed with her assessment. She’d never tasted tea that tasted like straight smoke before. Sofi wondered if Giza had accidentally burned it. Giza breezed by with a stack of books in her arms.

“You like the tea? Traditional Sullustan.” Sofi and Thire nodded and made affirmative noises in unison. It seemed like they were both polite to a fault. Walking back, she smiled a conspiratorial smile at Sofi. _Oh no._

“On Sullust we have matchmakers. They always serve _albenda_. Good for … how do you say? Stamina.” And walked away, as if discussing performance in the sack was normal first date conversation. Thire immediately started loudly coughing, gently setting his cup back on the table with a clink. At that moment, his comm beeped, as if on cue. He looked incredibly relieved.

“I’m sorry, miss. I have to go.”

“I understand,” she said, “But don’t call me miss. I’m not twelve.”

“Sorry,” he paused, “Sofi.”

They walked out of the shop after their hasty goodbye to the meddling Sullustan. Sofi paid for the books before Thire could even try.

“Do you need a ride home?” he asked.

“I’m just down the street, but thanks anyway.”

He looked around, as if trying to spot her place, soaking in the neighborhood.

“Before you leave, I have an idea.” He raised his eyebrows. “I’ll take your book and you take mine. Branch out a little bit?”

“Hmm. Okay.” They switched books and he held his under his plastoid arm.

“Can I comm you again?” she asked.

“Sure,” he replied, “but no tea next time.”

“Agreed,” she said, with a small laugh.

They were close and he was looking down at her. Not expectantly, as she would have thought. His face was just open, relaxed, almost happy looking. She leaned up to kiss him on the cheek and he stiffened minutely, mouth a bit open as she pulled away, the tiniest bit of stubble scratching against her skin.

“See you soon,” she shot over her shoulder, and walked back towards her apartment. Their date had been cut short, but she’d learned plenty about Commander Thire.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thire thinks on things and some of his brothers weigh in. Sofi dresses up and Thire dresses down, and they dance the night away.
> 
> Just a reminder that you can find me on Tumblr as crimson-dxwn.tumblr.com (writing blog) or the-arctic-violet :)

Thire thought about Sofi a lot more than he probably should have on his way home from their emergency briefing. Two near-accidents later he was back at the barracks, still thinking about her flirting and kissing him on the cheek. He wished it didn’t make him feel things. 

For tonight he’d blame it on the horrible tea that Giza had given them. He both blessed and cursed his emergency comm for saving him from the intensely awkward situation. Despite having a soft spot for the old woman, he couldn’t choke down that tea to save his life, and was glad he hadn’t. Who knew what that stuff would do to you? Stamina. He almost smacked his head against the wall in embarrassment. Of all the things to bring up on a first date. Pretty sure they’d been engineered for plenty of that, but he didn’t need it brought up on what barely passed for a first date. 

The book in his hands was dark blue with neon green print. The Testaments, it was called. He’d never heard of it. He turned it over in his hands, a little miffed that she’d suggested they switch, but unable to say no. And so he opened the pages and started to read.

A week later she commed him. Before Thire could grab it out of his hand, Stone picked the device up and checked it.

“It’s your girlfriend, vod,” he said teasingly, tossing the comm across the room to him.

“You’re one to talk, buir.” His brother shot him a stern look, as impassive as his namesake. Stone, ever the jokester, but easy to upset with your own. Luckily, he was in a good mood, because he let out a gruff laugh a few seconds later.

“Where’s she taking you this time? Another tea party?” Ryk chimed in. Not for the first time today, he reminded himself that his brothers had his best interests in mind, despite being absolute di’kuts while going about it.

He cursed himself for relaying literally any details about his prior outing. Her message was just another set of coordinates, probably in the same neighborhood by the look of them and a time. Tonight. 

"Let me know if tonight works for you."

Doing something with her sounded a lot better than another gym session or hitting the sack. So he replied, and waited to meet her. He supposed he’d done something right the other week, since Sofi wanted to see him again. 

——————

She tossed a pair of clothes into Thire’s arms as he walked through the door. Sofi had picked something up at the store around the corner that would help him fit in a little more. Unfortunately, that armor made it difficult to judge how broad his shoulders actually were. Height was easy to judge, since he was about two inches taller than she was. And she had to admit that she was a little excited to finally get a look at what he was packing under those plastoid plates. 

“What’s this?” he asked, eyeing the garments with apprehension. 

“A little something for you to wear on our outing.”

“And where are we going?” 

“Giving you a little taste of my homeworld, right here on Coruscant.”

“And I can’t wear my armor at...”

“The Coronet.”

“The Coronet,” he deadpanned.

“I thought you’d be more comfortable!” And stick out just a little less. “It’s a Corellian bar, very casual. I wanted you to be able to move a little more freely.”

“You didn’t have to buy me anything.”

“I didn’t mind.” A pause. 

“Thanks.”

Then, right in front of her, he started stripping off his white armor plates and setting them gently on her floor. He certainly wasn’t shy. Then again, neither was she, but she turned away to give him a little privacy and resisted the urge to peek at him in his skivvies. She turned back around just as he was pulling the shirt down over his waist. His very trim waist. Maybe the pants she got would be too big after all. Thire stood with his hands by his sides, waiting for her approval.

“Well?” Sofi was a little lost for words for a moment, a little confused since she didn’t normally get tongue tied at the sight of fully clothed men. She watched him pull the trousers up again and smiled just a bit.

“I’ll be right back,” she said, and retreated to her room where she knew she had a belt. Somewhere. After a few minutes of digging, she re-emerged and tossed it to him. “So you’re not pulling them up all night. I’m gonna need those hands free.”

His eyebrows raised up minutely, but he stayed silent. 

“Did you finish your book?” He asked, threading the belt through the loops on his new trousers. 

“I did,” she smiled, “it was...hot.” Thire harrumphed. 

“Yours wasn’t. That was the most depressing thing I’ve ever read.”

“It’s a classic!” The skeptical look on his face told her that he didn’t much care for the classics, but he grinned lopsidedly at her, so he must not have hated it that much.

“To each their own I guess.” He shrugged. 

“You look great!” she said, meaning every word, even if the shirt was a little tight around the shoulders. Well, nobody was perfect, least of all her. She took his hand and led him down the street to The Coronet.

Thire, having only been to 79’s, had absolutely no clue what to expect from a Corellian Bar. He knew about Corellia, of course, from his flash training as a cadet, but only facts pertinent to a soldier, nothing about the culture. They were famous for their shipbuilding skills, and that’s about all he knew. 

Sofi was turning out to be quite the enigma for him. She worked in a Coruscant emergency room, regularly got covered in other peoples’ blood trying to save lives. She was gorgeous, but read analytical books, dressed like a holomodel but hung out in the bar they were currently sitting at - which he thought even some of his brothers wouldn’t be brave enough to enter. He thought he might have whiplash.

Right now he was drinking - of course - Corellian Whiskey, as was Sofi. She was on her second glass, chatting with the bartender who obviously knew her well. What Thire knew of her neighborhood from some discreet holonet searches was that it was home to a great deal of Coruscant’s Corellian immigrants. Megablock 239 was also known as Little Corellia - and here he was right in the middle of it, dressed like a regular man having a drink after work. It was strangely exhilarating.

Earlier, he’d bristled a little bit at Sofi dressing him up. Down? Either way. Now he was glad for it. Change had always been difficult for him, no matter how small. But the clothes were comfortable and helped him fit in with the laid back crowd sitting at the bar and in the grimy booths lining the walls. 

He was yanked out of his own thoughts by the sound of Sofi’s stool screeching back and said occupant bounding over to the band that had started to set up in the corner. 

“Come on, Thire!” she beckoned. He grabbed his drink and followed her. She was wearing some sort of little dress with criss-crossing straps that he didn’t have the energy to understand but enjoyed nonetheless. The warmth from the whiskey was starting to flow through him now, and he wrapped an arm around her waist as she and the musicians talked. 

She craned her head back at him and smiled.

“They’re straight from Corellia, just got here a few weeks ago.”

An elderly man tuning an instrument he’d never seen before studied him briefly. 

“Thire, huh? Not a name you hear every day. Where ya from, son?”

“Oh..uh...little backwater beyond the Outer Rim. Not very well traveled.” It wasn’t a complete lie. He desperately hoped the man didn’t pry more. Or look down at the white armored boots beneath his new pants. He wasn’t ashamed, but he wanted to feel like he was free from the debate over whether he was worthy of being a person or not for once. For the night, he wanted to be a nat-born, having a drink with his girlfriend. Subtract the boots and he at least looked the part. 

The man gave him a nod and a hum and went back to messing with the strings on his instrument. 

Sofi sat them down in a little both with a good view of the musicians around what he presumed was a dance floor. The music was...different...from what usually played at 79’s. Less bass, but with uplifting strings and drums. They sang as well. Sofi was obviously enjoying herself, bobbing her head to the music and humming along occasionally. Her drink was gone, but her cheeks were flushed and he could practically feel the excited energy rolling off her. 

With the next song, people started getting up to dance, which coincidentally was when panic started rising in Thire’s gut. To his immense dismay, Sofi squeezed the hand attached to his arm over her shoulder and looked back at him with a glint in her eye. Oh maker. He needed about five more drinks for dancing to be a fathomable concept.

“Do you want to?” she asked. 

“Maybe next song.” 

“Okay,” she replied, “Don’t feel like you have to. Do you mind if I dance for a little bit?” 

“Nah,” he said. “I’m happy to watch for now.”

She squeezed his hand again and got up from the booth, joining a little cluster of women at the center of the dance floor. A quick little song picked up and he just watched her, stomping her graceful feet and spinning, until the song was over and a new one started, slow this time. 

Couples started getting up and flooded the dance floor and he made eye contact with Sofi, who was still off to the side after the last song, panting. 

Kriff it, he was a Clone Commander. He’d faced a lot more terrible things than dancing and survived. And so he got his shebs out of the booth, took her hand and led her to the wooden floor. For all his quietness compared to his brothers, he was well known as the fastest learner, and it was coming in handy now. 

“My place?” she asked, deep brown eyes hooded and wanting. 

“Let’s go,” he replied, as wanting as she was. 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sofi was so glad she picked a shirt with short sleeves, because she couldn’t wait to explore those biceps. Like right now. A little impatiently, she tugged the hem of his shirt up and over his head and he pulled it off from the back of his neck. She was intoxicated less from the alcohol and more from touching a warm body for the first time in a long time, seeing his lean, compact muscles in the dim light of her bedroom, and the absolute awe in his eyes as he watched her undress. 

She was naked before she knew it. They both knew what was going to happen, no use keeping anything on. The ambient lights from the Coruscant sky and buildings around them cast a soft glow in the room. Raptly, she watched him unbuckle his belt and her stomach dropped in anticipation. What was it about those hands that made her think about all the things they could do and places they’d be.

Sofi helped him out of the trousers and basics and for a second they just stood there looking at one another, breathing heavily. She moved towards him, kissed him deeply and gently pushed on his shoulder so he sat on the edge of her bed and straddled him, a knee on either side of his hips, cock so close to her that she could practically feel it. But for now, she avoided touching him. 

“Have you done this before?” she asked,voice a little breathier that she’d intended. He’d been letting her take the lead, which wasn’t entirely unusual, but there was something in her intuition that told her he hadn’t. Not that it was a problem, she just wanted him to feel comfortable and not pressured. Some people hadn’t gotten the luxury.

A tight shake of his head gave Sofi her answer. “Can I touch you?” 

“Yeah,” he replied, as hoarse as she was. She touched him gently, with barely any pressure, then with a little more. The tension in his body wound up and his breathing caught. He kissed her then, looping an arm around her back and flipping them onto the bed, with her underneath him. She laughed inwardly at how breathless she was at that show of strength. He had that practical strength, so much hotter than showy, pumped-up muscles they showed in holos, where she knew he was holding it back just for her. To keep her safe and comfortable.

“Tell me what you like.”

She was a little surprised. Pleased, but surprised.

“How about I show you?” 

She could barely make out the shocked disbelief on his face. Like he couldn’t believe this was happening. Cute. 

“There’s one thing I want to do first though,” she added, rolling him on his back and making her way down his body with her lips and teeth, feeling his dark eyes on her the whole way. She really couldn’t get enough of how his head craned back and the vessels in his neck popped out when she took him in her mouth. 

Sofi took her sweet time. It wasn’t her first rodeo, but it was his, and she wanted to make it memorable. It was nice for her too, since she got to watch his reactions, but she thanked the gods that he hadn’t had any of Giza’s tea. They caught their breaths side by side and she looked over at him and grinned, and found him already turned towards her, doing the same.

“Good?”

He nodded. “Your turn,” he said. 

He turned his body toward hers and flattened a palm over her stomach, leaning in for a kiss. She felt the hand come up and gently cup her breast, and then his mouth on the other. He was being extra careful and she had to remind herself that her nipples were pierced. Occasionally she still forgot, but not for long. A sigh left her as he switched sides.

Grasping his free hand, she guided it downwards to where she ached for him to be. She guided his fingers to her cunt, to the wetness there and drew them up to her clit.

“Do you feel that?” She felt more than heard the little noise of affirmation he made. “That’s where you wanna be. Fingers or tongue or whatever.” 

To her surprise, she felt his fingers sink into her, keeping his thumb on her clit. Guess I don’t have to teach him everything after all. Quick learner. He kept that pace up for a while and then, almost unnoticed, his head was between her legs and his mouth was on her. Sofi felt the tension in her body heighten until it was almost unbearable, with him sucking on her clit and his fingers pressing into her. And then she broke with a gasp and a sigh. 

She came back planetside to Thire’s very pleased-looking face staring at her, still perched between her thighs. He came up to kiss her again and they rearranged themselves semi-comfortably and just rested in silence for a while. A couple of dozy minutes later she lifted her head from his shoulder to look him in the eye. 

“You seemed to know the basics of etiquette.” She propped herself up on an elbow, studying his face. “You didn’t put your hands on my head.” He chuckled at that. 

“I have over a million brothers,” he admitted wryly, and turned his head to look at her, “I picked up some things.”

“Ah,” she replied, “Well, you’re welcome to stay the night if you want.” She snuggled her head into his bare chest, palm spread out over his sternum, smoothing her fingers through the fine dark hair that grew there, still a tiny bit damp with sweat.

Where did that come from? Sofi was not a cuddler. Intimacy wasn’t the name of her game. At least not normally. Plus, she felt safe with him, which probably meant she should be extra wary. The man seemed to genuinely care about her outside of just sex. Seemed to, at least. They all revealed themselves in the end, that or she got bored. And Sofi got bored very easily. 

It’s not like she didn’t have a million different ways to discreetly kick men out of her apartment. She hoped he didn’t expect her to make breakfast…maybe just some caf...with a few more scattered thoughts, her eyelids slipped shut and she was lost to sleep before she knew it, wrapped around Thire’s warm, naked body. 

When she woke up, he was spooning her from behind, in his skivvies. Sofi was still buck-ass naked. She gently removed his arm from about her waist and hit the’ fresher, pulling on some thermal sleepwear on the way. Thire must sleep like a rock, because he hadn’t budged from where she left him a few minutes ago. She was distinctly alarmed by the urge to let him sleep, rather than kick his ass out. He was handsome, plus she actually came last night. It was still the weekend, she conceded, and at the moment she needed caf more than she needed an awkward conversation with the man in her bed. 

Her water had just started boiling on the stovetop when she heard his rustling around in her bedroom. She decided to feign nonchalance when she heard soft footsteps behind her. A large hand pushed her hair to her left shoulder and kissed her gently where her neck met her shoulder.  
“Hey,” he said, careful not to startle her.

“Morning.” She poured the boiling water over the grounds as he watched, leaning on the counter. He had put on whatever black leggings they wore under their armor. His chest was still bare and it was supremely distracting, to her irritation. “How do you take your caf?” 

“However you take it, I’m not picky.” 

“Black, then.” 

They spent the rest of the morning sipping caf in bed, talking and laughing, watching the holonews like they’d been together for years.


	3. Chapter 3

_[Six Months Later]_

Her face was wet. Her face was wet and he didn’t know why. Thire stopped what he was doing and flipped on the light.

“No!” she exclaimed, a second too late.

Oh _kriff_. She was crying, holy _kriff_ she was crying and he’d barely noticed. He was soft in an instant, but he was more concerned about what the frag he did to upset her. She had her hands over her face and was now curled up into a ball at the other end of the bed from him, muscles tense.

“Sof!” He was met with silence.

“Did I hurt you?” She shook her head.

“Did I say something wrong?” Another head shake.

“I’m fine, Thire,” she said, wiping her eyes, “Turn the light out, we can keep going.”

What the *kriff. No. That was not happening. He sure as Force wasn’t going to fuck her when she was crying. What kind of _hut’uun_ would say yes to that? He didn’t want to know. It was obvious then that there were things in her past that haunted her, like all of them. He still hurt for her.

“We’re stopping.”

“I can keep going, if you want me to.”

“What the *kriff, Sof. No, we’re not gonna keep going,” he said, trying desperately to keep his horrified thoughts from appearing on his face, “Please tell me what’s wrong.”

“I should go.”

“I’m not going to stop you from leaving if you want, but I want to know if I did something wrong.”

“It just happens sometimes, Thire.” She started throwing her underclothes back on.

“It just happens -” he repeated incredulously. “I may not have a ton of experience, but I’m pretty sure you’re not supposed to start crying during sex unless something’s wrong.”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Please, Sof,” he begged. Apparently the tone of his voice struck a chord because she paused but her gaze remained on her twisting hands.

“The last person I was with, like _really_ with,” she started, “he…” She cleared her throat. He wasn’t quite sure where this was going, but he wasn’t enjoying the general trajectory of the conversation. She was thinking about some other man while they were in bed and he wasn’t sure if what she was thinking about was really good or _really really_ bad.

Tough conversations weren’t his strong suit, especially not ones like this. He’d been a virgin not too long ago, for Force’s sake. She tried again.

“He died.” She finally looked at him with big sad eyes and he swore his heart broke in two. That was...definitely not where he thought that conversation was going. She continued to stare down at her hands in her lap, picking at her nails.

Here he was, pretty sure he was in love with her, and she was thinking about a dead man while she was in his bed. His traitor brain kept trying to think jealous thoughts, but looking at her he knew he couldn’t be upset. To her credit, she’d always been able to read his facial expressions like a book, and right now what she saw there obviously horrified her.

“It’s not what you think,” she said, “Sometimes my mind gets away from me and I just start thinking about what would happen if I lost you like I lost him. I know it sounds really messed up.” Thire didn’t answer.

“Because I haven’t ...ah...haven’t felt anything for anyone since then. Until now.” Oh. _Oh._

She was admitting something intimate to him, but that tiny, slimy, insecure voice deep down inside him told Thire that he’d never be good enough for her. How was he supposed to measure up to a dead man? He obviously wasn’t worth her time if she was crying in bed with him.

“I can’t lose you, Thire. I can’t lose you like I did him, I can’t go through it again. I just can’t.” Tears started squeaking out of the corners of her eyes again, smudging her makeup into darkened trails down her cheeks.

“It doesn’t sound messed up.”

“I know I shouldn’t think about stuff like that. It doesn’t serve a purpose.”

“It’s okay to be worried. I worry about you too sometimes, but I didn’t lose someone I love either. At least not like that,” he added. Thire thought distantly of all the brothers he’d known who were gone now, who would never know love like this. Thire didn’t much believe in a higher power, but he thanked whatever, wherever decided to bring them together.

He loved her. Having never loved another woman, he thought he wouldn’t know what it felt like. His certainty blew him away.

“You want to shower and go to bed?” She nodded, wiping her eyes.

“Okay.”

Thire’s mind wouldn’t let him sleep after he kissed her goodnight. She couldn’t be all flirting, humor and bravado all the time, he knew. Sofi had a soft side, a vulnerability he hadn’t seen before from her. The longer they were together, the more she showed it, just for him.

\--------

Sofi was sleeping, still a little puffy-eyed when he snuck out of her apartment to grab some food and caf for them. He knew her neighborhood well by now, but he wanted a little something special. And for once, he knew a place he was pretty certain Sofi hadn’t ever been. Several levels and megablocks over was the best Mando grocery on Coruscant, or so he’d heard. A few of his brothers had been there and had only good things to say about it. New spread like wildfire through the ranks of the GAR. And for whatever reason - he suspected some sort of Mandalorian genetic remnant courtesy of Jango Fett - they all had a wicked sweet tooth and a taste for spicy food. This Mando store apparently came to play. Ordo’s, it was called.

Carefully, he counted out his credits. The Senate was still trying to work out how much and how often to pay the clones, and if they’d be compensated retroactively for their service. The constant arguing exhausted him, but at least now he got a monthly stipend so Sofi wasn’t constantly paying for everything. It had taken him a long time to get over that guilt. He quickly pushed that line of thought out of his mind and hopped on his speeder.

The place was so much bigger than it looked from the outside. Thire had never seen so much food in one place. Everything was labeled in Mandalorian, much to his chagrin, but he didn’t want to bother the shop girl behind the counter who was reading a celebrity holozine with rapt interest. He could spend hours in here just perusing the shelves of food, great colorful bags of rice and grains - there were even tanks with live fish in them, and another with giant crustaceans. Thire was ashamed to say that he didn’t know head from his _shebs_ when it came to cooking, but he was determined to learn. And he was starving, which was the best motivator of all. He decided to ask the shop girl for some advice. He cleared his throat.

“Excuse me, miss?” She lifted her head and considered him, eyes flicking down to his feet and back up to his face. She couldn’t be more than twenty, but her short-cropped hair was dyed grey, as well as her eyebrows. He was in his civilian clothes, but he suspected the girl recognized him.

“How can I help you, trooper?” Yep, she recognized him. Not a huge deal, she seemed friendly enough. A little flirty, even. He smiled back at her.

“I’m looking for something authentic, just for a quick breakfast. For two.”

“Authentic Mandalorian, huh? Well, pretty much everything in here is authentic, with the exception of that little corner over there.” Thire looked to where she was pointing, a dusty couple of shelves with boxes of colorful Coruscanti packaged food, faded from the sun.

“What do you two like?”

“I like pretty much everything,” he said, “She doesn’t like sweets. Anything salty or spicy. And if you have caf, I’ll take two.”

“Hmm. Well if you trust me, I’ll grab you something, just give me a minute.”

“I trust you,” he replied. She grinned back at him, a little glint in her golden eyes.

He watched her peruse the racks and shelves, stopping at a case and grabbing a few items with tongs.

“Alright _verd_ ,” she said, finally, “Come on over, I’ll ring you up.”

She took his credits and thankfully they seemed to cover the large brown bag of food she’d gathered.

“Two pastries, stuff for hash, two caf,” she repeated, “For the hash, chop everything up and throw it into the skillet with some salt, crisp it up and done. Twenty minutes standard.”

“Okay. Have a nice day, miss. Thanks again.”

“Of course, _verd_.”

He sipped the syrupy caf on his way out, inhaling its fragrant steam, letting go of some of the tension he knew he always held in his back and shoulders. He loved Sofi. And she loved him back, from the sound of it. It was a heady feeling, one he hadn’t been made for but felt deeply nonetheless. It made him stupid, and that scared him.

Fox and Mouse had made it work, somehow - there was a place for him and Sofi somewhere in the galaxy. He sat and sipped his caf, just for a minute, watching quietly as the morning sun rose and a little family made their way into the store. _I want that._ The thought came unbidden, but not necessarily unwelcome. Family was something he’d always wanted but never allowed himself to think about. _Stang_ , he was getting soft.

And with that thought, he hopped back on his bike and made his way home. Sofi was waiting for him, long limbs draped over an armchair. She already had a cup of caf in her hand and he chuckled. Couldn’t be up for more than twenty minutes without her fix. Corellian music was on, as usual.

“Couldn’t wait for me to get back?”

“You know how much I need caffeine, Thire.” She made grabby hands for the paper cup he was holding and he handed it over before she got feisty. He watched her dump the entire thing right in with the dregs of her current caf and try a mouthful. Her eyes rolled back in her head and she made an obscene noise of approval.

“Good?”

“Yes! Where did you get this? What’s in the bag?”

“Keep your chestplate on, Sof, I gotta cook some of this stuff up.” She pouted and he gave her his best exasperated look.

“You can cook?” she teased.

“I got some instructions from the cashier.” He grinned at her.

“Hmm. Well since you went out and got the supplies, it’s the least I can do to help,” she offered, with another long sip of caf.

“I’ll allow it,” he conceded. She rose from her chair and Thire got a little distracted by the teeny shorts she’d decided were adequate sleepwear and those _long_ legs and wondered how fast he could get her up on the counter with those legs wrapped around his hips and...his growling stomach stopped that line of thought in its tracks. Breakfast first.

“Where’d you get this? I don’t recognize the logo.”

“Ordo’s. Mando place a couple levels down.”

“Hmm,” she replied and gave him a kiss on the cheek, “Looks good.”

He chopped everything up while she watched the root vegetables fry, stirring occasionally. She’d fished one of the round, spicy little pastries out of the bag and was nibbling it while she worked. The sound of stirring stopped, and he looked over to see her staring intensely at him.

“What?” he asked, a little startled. Sometimes when she looked at him with her hypnotic brown eyes he felt like his heart was going to stop. “I love you, Thire.” Oh. He watched her look down, like she was scared he was going to be angry. He took her hand.

Softly, he said, “I love you too.”

\--------

_[Three Weeks Later]_

Commander Thire wasn’t sure who he had to thank for the absolutely abysmal filtration system on these Phase 2 buckets, but he’d love to give them a piece of his mind. He could practically feel the particles stick to his face and breathing was getting difficult. Ash flew past his visor like slow, fluffy raindrops. Apparently one of these traffickers had the genius idea to set the kriffing place on fire after they’d breached the compound. Compound was a generous word for the rickety structure in the low levels. Coruscant Police had gotten a tip that there was human trafficking ring being run out of this shithole, and so it was up to the Coruscant Guard to take care of a job that wasn’t theirs once again. He sighed in irritation. The plan was simple. Stealth up, breach the building, capture cowardly traffickers, get innocents out. Except that it was never that simple, and some genius had set the place on fire to try and cover the evidence. He and his brothers were paired off as usual, but somehow in the fray, he’d lost Stone and the place was heating up fast. To top it all off, their helmet comms were down due to the electrical interference from the smoke.

“Stone?” he yelled through the modulator. Nothing. _Kriff._

One more room to clear and then he could find Stone and get out of this place. Take a nice cold shower, drink as much ice water as he wanted...

Thire busted through the door of the last room, rifle-first, like they’d been taught. Like every urban combat drill they’d ever run. Except it was never like the drills. A single grubby human male lit up in the beam of the flashlight attached to his blaster, holding an almost comically large vibroblade to the neck of a weeping twi’lek woman. A fire started in his belly at the sight, hot as the flaming structure around them. What kind of man profits off the subjugation of other beings, off their suffering?

“Let her go and I’ll put my blaster down.” His subconscious was begging him to take the shot, but he wasn’t about to chance the poor girl dying so they could catch one more scumbag.

“No, blaster down first.” Thire couldn’t see the guy’s left hand. It could be holding the woman in place, or it could be holding a weapon. The guy was getting desperate, Thire could tell from the look in his eye. He didn’t have a lot of time to lose here.

“Okay, we’ll do it your way. I put my blaster down, you let her leave before you. I count to ten.” The man didn’t look convinced. “I don’t want to kill you, I swear.”

“That’s bantha poodoo,” he spat.

“Or I can shoot you right now, take your pick.” Thire stood his ground, staring down his sights as the man considered his offer. He continued. “You’re gonna have to trust me on it. The Republic might make a deal with you for information, but you better decide soon before we all die of smoke inhalation.” Finally, the man came to a decision. “Okay, we’ll do it your way, clone. Blaster on the ground, nice and slow.”

Thire could see little beads of blood spring up where the man’s shaking had cut into the woman’s neck. He lowered his rifle to the ground, standing slowly with his hands up. He prayed Fox and his deece were around somewhere to tap this _hut’uun_. If they got out alive.

Thire cursed every god he knew and his own stupidity because as the man pushed his captive aside, he revealed a blaster, and it was trained at his center mass. In the millisecond it took for him to crouch for his blaster, two shots rang out and suddenly it was like his breath had been sucked from his body. He’d never been shot before, not by anything that left permanent marks. Concussion rounds just felt like a punch, bruised like one too, but they weren’t meant to kill. The breathlessness he noticed well before the searing pain engulfed him. His thoughts fragmented as he slipped in and out of consciousness, sometimes crystal clear and sometimes fuzzy, like dreams. He knew he was dying. Thire had no idea of how long he lay on the floor before two plastoid arms picked him up and slung him over a shoulder. He screamed himself hoarse from the pain but then he was gulping fresh air, gasping for it desperately like a drowning man. And then everything was black.

\--------

Sofi heard a trauma ping come in her little ear comm. It had been a slow night so far, though you wouldn’t hear anyone in the emergency ward speak those words out loud. It was considered a bad omen, which permeated the diverse cultures of those who worked there. Everyone knew that you never, ever, said the word quiet. She glanced at her chrono. _Only three hours in this shift left, then I get to go see Thire._ Three more hours. The comm pinged a second time, and she pressed the little button to indicate she was ready to receive the patient information.

_We have a ...13 year old male who status post high caliber blaster shots to the abdomen and chest approximately fifteen standard minutes ago. Patient received one unit of dilute bacta in the field, remains hemodynamically unstable. ETA ten standard minutes._

They were definitely going to need more bacta, both for dressings and for infusion.

“Eli, page the trauma surgeons and make sure they’re up to speed. I want two units of bacta in a rapid infuser in Room 2.”

“Paging surgeons, two units of bacta, Room 2, coming right up.” The togruta shot up and sped to the warmer that held the precious bacta.

It sounded like this kid was bad. It was almost a certainty that he would need surgery and a bacta tank. If they could stabilize him, that is. Otherwise he’d die on the table - or worse - in her ER. Ten minutes later, about twenty nurses, techs and doctors were clustered around the room, waiting for their patient to arrive making sure everything they needed was in place. The transport medics wheeled the patient in on a stretcher and the organized chaos began. The handoff, hooking him up to monitors, placing IV lines, cataloguing injuries. Sofi had her team meticulously organized, and everyone knew their place and role. After she made sure everyone was in their right spot, she went to the head of the bed. One of the transport medics spoke up.

“He’s a clone, we scanned his forearm ID in the transport after we got his torso armor off…” But Sofi already knew. “CC-4477..” she felt her hearing buzz in and out as the medic talked, just staring at Thire’s ashen face and prone, blood-covered torso. “...too unstable to transport to the GAR hospital…”

“Sofi, SOFI!” Jorah was yelling in her ear, shaking her, trying to get her to respond. _Oh god … Thire… oh my god it’s Thire…_

“What the hell is going on with her?” the transport medic asked, “It her first day or something?”

Jorah had put already two and two together and took charge. “She knows him,” he snapped, “Keep your attitude to yourself and finish your handoff. Then get out.”

The team continued their work and the surgeons arrived to evaluate before the body scanner machine arrived. Jorah had sat Sofi on her ass outside in the hallway, head between her knees and alone with her thoughts. What were the odds...what were the odds that he would get transferred to her hospital when she was on duty? Sofi thought she must be cursed, that there was something she did to deserve this. Again. Only this time fast and brutal, instead of long and drawn out. She couldn’t decide which would be worse. She felt a warm body beside her. Jorah.

“I handed things off to Eli so I could come check on you. Is that okay?” A sharp nod of her head.

“How is he?” she dared ask.

“You saw. He’s not great,” Jorah took a deep breath before he continued, “- lost a lot of blood out there. Looks like his armor took a lot of the hit though.”

“Was he conscious when I was in there? Did he...see me freak out like that?”

“Barely - I don’t think he’ll remember.” _Oh god..._ Commotion from the room meant that Thire was being moved. To surgery, most likely. She shielded her eyes with a shaking hand, feeling too many eyes staring at her sitting like a small child on the floor with Jorah’s arm around her. A tap on her back jolted her and she flinched.

“Sof?” Jorah. He was looking between her and the bed, which was just outside the trauma bay doors, surrounded by her twitchy-looking coworkers.

“You gotta say bye now.” No. She couldn’t do it. Sofi sat there frozen until Jorah hauled her bodily up and towards the bed. His lips were close to her ear so the others couldn’t pick up their conversation.

“You’re gonna regret it if you don’t, Sofi.” She looked down at Thire, still as death, eyes half open and dulled with pain and strong medication. But somehow they found hers, and Sofi felt her heart drop into her feet. In an instant, her forehead was on his and she was murmuring things to him she never thought she’d say to another person again. And then he was gone, and she was sobbing into Jorah’s shoulder in full view of her coworkers.

There wasn’t anyone that wanted her to keep working, so she sat in the surgery waiting room with all the other poor souls hanging on scraps of news about their loved ones. Being strong and in charge, always calm and put together, was a way to stay in control. It had kept her safe for so long, and the minute she let her guard down, happiness was getting ripped out from under her feet again. She’d let herself love someone again and this was her punishment. So she retreated into her head, numbing herself to what might happen, and focused on a spot in the blandly-colored carpet.

Out of nowhere she felt a hand on her shoulder. Her eyes blearily followed the arm up to identify the owner of said wayward hand. Fox. The Commander of the Coruscant Guard stood behind her, flanked by the entire entourage of carbon-scored, bloodstained brothers in various states of armament. Something serious had obviously gone down. Stone had a rudimentary bandage around his upper arm and Hound was missing his entire chest plate. Those with their helmets off had sweat tracks down their faces caked with soot. “How is he?” Fox croaked out. Sofi shook her head.

“I wish I could say I knew. He came in critical, Commander.” Her voice broke on his title.

The hand still resting on her shoulder gave a squeeze and she hung her head. Thire was probably going to die, and she was never going to see his face light up at something again. Or asleep in the morning light of her flat. She felt utterly wrung out. Her elbows rested on her knees and she propped her weary head in her hands, trying to rest, but every time she closed her eyes all she could see was Thire’s blood and his body twitching on the gurney.


	4. Chapter 4

A hand was stroking her hair. It felt amazing, compared to the way the rest of her body ached stiffly - right now her left hip was completely numb. Right on the edge of sleep and waking, she thought it must be Thire. He’d always loved her long hair, loved running his hands through it when she wore it down. Last week she’d found out he like pulling it in bed...

The hand stopped stroking, but it wasn’t Thire’s voice she heard. 

“It’s time to go home for a while Sofi,” the soft voice said, “you need to shower and eat something.”

When she wrenched her gritty eyelids open, she finally had her answer. 

A slight woman was leaning over the little cot set up by Thire’s bacta tank, an imposing red-armored figure looming behind her. The woman had to be Mouse, if Fox’s posture was any indication. Before her brain was fully operational, she laughed a little at Fox having his wife come and collect her, like she was some sort of emotional ticking time bomb. From what she understood of their relationship, they pretty much came as a matched set. So really this shouldn’t be much of a surprise. 

“‘Mokay. I’ll stay here.” She glanced back up at the tank and the vitals readout, making sure he was still there, still alive. Usually she stared at the tank until she could see his chest rise and fall until she let her eyes close. Unwilling to leave him, she snuggled herself under the blankets a little farther. 

“Sofi, you had crackers for dinner last night.” When Sofi reopened her yes, both Mouse and Fox both looked profoundly unconvinced of her ability to take care of herself. “When was the last time you went home?”

She wracked her brains to try and remember. Thire had been in bacta for...three days now. Or was it four? 

“At least I ate something.” Mouse sighed and Fox shifted impatiently. Sofi watched his helmet tilt up, almost imperceptibly, to watch his brother floating in bacta. He was probably just as worried as she was. He and Thire had known each other for years. Maybe they hadn’t been close on Kamino, but now they were as close as batchmates. 

“You can come back later, but let’s get you a change of clothes at the very least.”

Sofi looked down at her dirty scrubs peeking out from under the hospital blanket. There were still little smears of his blood on them and the utterly exhausted part of her brain almost made her laugh at it. She’d been spattered with blood too when she first met Thire. She felt - and probably smelled - like the angel of death. Maybe a shower  _ would _ do her some good. 

“Okay,” she acquiesced, “but I’m coming right back afterwards.”

“That’s fine,” said Mouse, “Fox will stay with him until you get back.”

Sofi managed to get home okay, after all, she’d had _ some _ rest. But she didn’t dare let herself lie down on her bed or the couch for fear of falling asleep again out of pure, eviscerating exhaustion. Showering was the acceptable alternative that would perk her up a bit, to wash some of her worry off as well as the grime. The searing heat of the spray helped to work some tension out of her muscles, cramped from her constant perch on the cot next to Thire’s tank. 

Mouse was right, she did feel better after showering. Gulping down some water, Sofi pondered when she’d have to go back to work. Paid time off was limited and she still wasn’t sure when Thire would be able to leave the hospital. Fortunately, he was young and healthy, in his prime, so to speak. That he had going for him, and also the particular Mando stubbornness that she supposed came from Jango Fett. Kaminoans certainly didn’t seem like the most tenacious of people. 

Sofi glanced at the inviting cushions on her couch. A little nap couldn’t hurt. She’d only been getting snippets of sleep the last few days, waking at every little voice and beep. A few hours couldn’t hurt.  _ I’ll just rest my eyes _ , she thought, and slipped into sleep. 

Hours later she was wrenched out of sleep by her beeping comm. Thire was coming out of bacta.

She rushed back to the hospital, anxious and excited. Fox was still there with Thire, as promised, bucket off and standing ramrod straight beside the tank. Nurses and med droids milled about, prepping the room.

“Commander,” she greeted, sidling up to the tank. She pressed her hands to the transparisteel, studying Thire’s unconcsious form for any signs of trouble. 

“Ma’am,” he replied. Thire had told her so much about his brother, his  _ vod _ as he called him. Commander Fox was a formidable man, but Sofi knew from Thire that his hard exterior hid a softer center. Not that she would ever mention it. 

“You can call me Sofi, if you like,” He smiled down at her. 

“I’ve heard a lot about you, Sofi,” said Fox. 

“Likewise.” Together they watched the bacta slowly start to drain, inching down gradually. Nausea rose up in her gut as she waited.

“What the hell happened to him, Fox?” She didn’t bother with rank, not caring much for formality at this point. 

He sighed, somehow looking even more burdened than usual. It was easy to see how Mouse would soften his edges, even him out a bit. 

“We had a tip on a being-trafficking situation down in the lower levels. One of the hut’uune set the place on fire to cover the evidence up...from what Stone told us, it sounded like he was in a hostage situation with one of them. He saved a woman but the trafficker shot him.” 

Tears prickled in her eyes, not for the first time that day. She knew she shouldn’t be angry at him for taking risks, but she was; wanted to tell him how much of a self-sacrificing idiot he was, but she couldn’t. He wouldn’t be the Thire she loved without his caring nature. 

\--

It was slow going after leaving the hospital. Sofi didn’t think she’d ever had a worse patient in her entire career. After insisting that he be discharged with her, she’d brought Thire to her place so he could have some peace and quiet. He repeatedly insisted that he was fine to go back to work, despite being at death’s door mere days ago. Truthfully, he didn’t seem that happy to be alive. 

He’d never raised his voice at her before, but now he was as testy as a wounded animal; she felt like she was constantly tiptoeing around his varying moods. It was exhausting. The worst part was that he wouldn’t let her help him. Sofi practically had to beg him to let her put bandages on, even though they both knew he couldn’t reach. 

Confronting the problem head on seemed the best option after a week of him shutting her out. Surgery and bacta had taken care of most of the critical damage, but the immobility and energy needed to heal had taken a lot out of him. 

“Thire?”

“Hm?” He didn’t even look up from his comm. 

“Why won’t you let me help you?” She tried putting her hand on his forearm but he shook it off, though he finally looked her in the eyes.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said, “I’m here, aren’t I?” Irritation showed plain on his face, still drawn from recovery.

“You know that’s not what I mean,” she said, praying he’d understand, “Thire, I saw you come into the hospital. I saw how bad it was. Even with bacta, there’s no way you’re back to one hundred percent.”

“You don’t know me, then. Because I’m fine. I honestly don’t even know why I’m here.” He threw the covers off of himself in frustration. 

That hurt. But she wasn’t entirely surprised. She’d get to the bottom of this, fix whatever was going on with him and they’d be back to normal. 

“Maybe you want to talk to someone about it?” she suggested.

That was apparently entirely the wrong thing to say. His glared at her, face hardening. She’d really upset him now, she could tell by that look on his face, the way he jerked and turned away from her so she couldn’t see it. 

“I’m fine,” he ground out, still facing towards the windows, “Actually, I’m better than fine. I’m going back to the barracks. I need some alone time.”

“Are you sur-“

“- I’m not one of your patients, Sofi. Stop treating me like I am!” The tone in his voice shut her up and she watched him awkwardly put on his blacks and lower body plates, breathing harshly. The upper ones were long gone, tossed aside in the back of an ambulance somewhere, slicked in his blood. 

She just sat there on the bed, too shocked to cry, staring at his back as he left her flat, walking stiffly through the pain and slamming the door behind him. This was nothing like the Thire she knew. It was hard to be upset with him, but it was like his personality had changed overnight and he refused to talk to anyone about it, least of all her. She could feel him pulling away and felt like there was nothing she could do to stop it.

\--

Rare was the moment that Thire truly felt afraid. In the last week, he’d had two. One, when the certainty had come over him that he was going to die, and second, when he realized he lived but was gravely injured. Possibly irreparably. Civilians didn’t know about decommissioning, and his fellow clones only whispered the word, even as grown men. He and his brothers had grown up with the constant visceral terror of not being good enough and never being seen again, being stolen away in the night. Regular children had terrors of imaginary monsters, but for the clones they were real. 

Which was why he couldn’t let anyone see, even though he knew that the Kaminoans couldn’t touch him here. That fear had been so real and raw for the majority of his life that it was something he just couldn’t snap himself out of. His brothers would understand. They were the only ones who could and  _ would _ protect him. 

All Sofi’s constant ministrations had done was make him feel like a child again. A terrified child. He cabbed it back to 300 Republica and stiffly made his way to his bunk, ignoring the stares from his brothers at his sweaty face, bucket under his arm, straining to keep it together until he reached his bunk. No one dared confront him. When he did arrive, he thanked whatever privileged bastard decided to give them private rooms before he limped to the fresher and started puking his guts out.

He kept having dreams about the hospital. 

\------

The next two weeks passed in a blur. Somehow they felt like the longest two weeks of his life, and other times he wasn’t sure how that much time had passed since he’d seen Sofi. Two weeks was the longest they’d gone without speaking in the entirety of their relationship. He’d composed messages to her, but hadn’t had the _gett’se_ to send them, to apologize for his _di’kutla_ behavior. 

Being babied hadn’t helped his anxiety about his injury and like a coward, he couldn’t bring it up to her. To his displeasure, his anxiety had only worsened since his grenade injury in the beginning of the war. The medic had told him he was lucky to come out of that still walking straight, which resulted in daily panic attacks for weeks. Since he’d stormed out of her place two weeks ago, she hadn’t contacted him once. Not that he expected her to - he fully expected her to be pissed, and she had every right to be.

Which was why he almost didn’t answer her text. He knew he wasn’t mad at her, he  _ knew _ that. It was his anxiety talking. He also knew their relationship was over. How could Sofi ever want him back after the way he’d raged at her. She deserved to be with someone who was as vibrant as she was. Still, his heart ached to see her again, hear her witty banter, see the way she smiled at him when he was doing something mundane and thought he couldn’t see. All of it.

He’d received a cryptic text from her number asking to pick her up, signed by one of her coworkers whose name he didn’t recognize.

Sofi was sitting on the curb with a cup of caf, wearing a paper scrub top. He was too scared to ask what had happened to the one that she had been wearing that matched her bottoms. His blood boiled at the implication. He may not have been there to witness what happened, but he could sure as hell connect the dots.

“I got your text.”

“I didn’t text you.” 

“Well someone did.” A long pause stretched between them. Sofi sat, sipping her coffee, looking for all intents and purposes extremely bored, while he stood in front of her, watching, waiting for an explanation. It didn’t help that his guilt was eating him alive and she wouldn’t - or couldn’t - look at him. 

“Surprised you even answered, Thire.” Her voice was flat, alarmingly so, her face smooth and expressionless. This was nothing like the Sofi he knew. He wanted her to rage at him, scream or curse - something. An ice pack rested over her right palm, dripping a puddle onto the duracrete.

“The text said something happened.” Thire’s worry was growing the more she wouldn’t look at him. She just sipped her coffee like nothing in the universe was wrong, like it was morning and they were still together and he’d run down to the corner shop for two cafs, black. 

“I don’t _kriffing_ know,” she said, irritation plain, “ask the asshole who texted you. My cab is coming in five minutes and I just wanna go home.”

“What happened to your hand?” Her eyes flicked down to the appendage as if she had forgotten it was there. 

“Nothing.”

“Can I look at it?” he asked carefully. She shrugged. Taking that as a yes, he crouched down in front of her slowly, though he wasn’t sure she would even notice him. He moved the ice pack and a livid bite mark met his eyes, right in the meat of where her thumb met her palm. A human bite mark. Thire clenched his teeth.

“You gonna tell me who did this?” he asked, trying to keep the anger out of his voice. Dark almond eyes met his, almost black in the darkness, reflecting the speeder lights passing by. He braced his hands on the armor covering his thighs 

“Patient tried to get fresh with me. Ripped my top, tried to shove his fingers in my mouth. I pushed his face away and he bit me.” He watched her look at her hand like it was foreign to her, and poke at the bruise like the appendage belonged to someone else. 

“That’s battery, Sofi, you should press charges!”

“It’s not that serious, Thire.”

“Half your hand is black and blue.” 

There seemed to be a lot of shrugging going on tonight. She repeated the movement, still staring straight forward.

“I just want to forget about it.” The crack in her voice was the only thing that stopped him from pushing her further. 

“Fine, but I’m taking you home.” As if in response, her cab pulled up and Thire talked to the cabbie, flipping him a few credits for his time. Fortunately, she mounted his speeder bike behind him without argument and held onto him gingerly, touching the least amount of surface area as possible. 

She let them into her apartment, moving slowly towards the bedroom and he followed, unsure of what he should be doing, or even if she wanted him there. Sofi finally settled on the edge of the bed and Thire joined her. 

“Has stuff like this happened before?” A shrug. Yes, then. She didn’t seem to want to elaborate, so he didn’t press her. But it didn’t surprise him. 

“Go shower and change and I’ll sit with you.” She didn’t fight his suggestion and rose, stiffly grabbed pajamas out of her drawer and slid into the fresher. A half hour later she was still in there and Thire was starting to get concerned. 

He knocked softly on the door, with no answer and Thire could hear that the shower was still running. He knocked louder. Maybe she’d fallen or passed out or worse and the last thought scared him enough to open the door to check on her. Sofi was huddled in the corner of her shower, arms wrapped around knees, head resting on top of them, so still she looked frozen as the water from the shower poured over her. 

Thire was a little scared to approach after what had happened earlier, unsure of how comfortable she’d be. He stripped his armor plates off and clambered in the shower with her. The water was still hot, soaking his blacks in a matter of seconds, wetting his hair until it plastered down to his face; instinctively, he sat and wrapped his arms and legs around her huddled form. Normally obstacles and insults rolled off her back like nothing - her unshakeable confidence was one of the things he loved most about her, but this - this was different and it scared him. 

For a moment her body tightened, relaxing after a beat, wet head coming to rest on his shoulder. He held her for a while in silence, letting the water fall over them. 

“Cyar’ika, let’s get you changed.” She nodded in response and squeezed his arm a bit, as if to reassure him she was okay. He turned off the water for her and she wrapped up in a towel while he shed his soggy blacks. Fortunately, he kept a few pieces of civvy clothing at her place which were still strewn on a chair in the corner. They donned their sleepwear in silence and she let him curl up behind her in bed, like old times. After a few minutes, neither of them were asleep and Thire couldn’t hold back any longer.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there,” he said. She squirmed and readjusted so that she was facing him in bed, hand on his face, softly stroking his cheek.

“There’s no way you could have known, stuff like this happens more than you think,” she whispered, “I don’t need you to protect me.”

“I know. I just wish I had been,” he continued, “-and I know I was wrong when I left.”

“Me too.” She paused, looking down at her bitten hand. He took it in his, finding that he needed it more for his reassurance than her comfort. “I’m sorry I didn’t call. I knew you were mad and I wanted you to have the space you needed.”

“I don’t even know how many times I wrote and rewrote messages to you. I was just too afraid to send them,” he said, forcing himself to continue, “...the reason I blew up at you...you didn’t do anything wrong. I was scared.” He choked out the last word. Here he was, a Commander, pride of the GAR, admitting he was terrified. How he hated it. 

“I know,” she admitted, “I could tell by your reaction, but I didn’t want to press.” 

“I’m sorry.” Thire hung his head, he  _ had _ to get this out, or else he would never be able to tell her. “When we were young, training, there were rumors that if you were defective….the Kaminoans would decommission you.” 

“Decommision?”

“Kill us.” His bluntness astonished him, but it was the truth. “That’s why I get anxious when I’m sick or hurt. Not because of you.” 

“I forgive you.” She brushed a kiss across his lips, and he noticed tears in her eyes again. “And I’m sorry too. I’m sorry you had to go though that.” 

“Forgiven,” he replied, returning the kiss and pressing her to him so that they were flush.

“I care that you’re alive. Even if we’re not together,” whispered Sofi.

“Do you want to be together?”

“Yes,” she said, “Do you?”

“More than anything,” he replied. 

\---

Thire and Sofi sat in her kitchen, happily sipping caf and eating savory pastries from Ordo’s - their usual Sunday morning routine. He met her eyes over the top of his mug and smiled. 

“I want a baby, Thire.”

“What?” His eyes went a little wide but he was able to keep his reaction somewhat under control, except for the fact that he choked slightly on a bit of pastry. 

“With you.” His watery eyes considered her, sitting across the table from him, a perfectly placid expression on her face. 

“Yeah, I gathered that.”

She gave him a little pause to think about it.

“And I don’t want to wait. You’re it, Thire. I knew on our second date. And then you got shot and it just put everything into perspective.”

“I get that.” He considered it. A baby. “I feel that way too. I love you, Sofi. If it was legal I’d carry you to the Senate Building right now and marry you on the spot.”

“What do you think? About what I said.”

He considered her proposition. A baby. Fatherhood had always been an abstract concept to him, having never had one himself. But in the past year, he’d let himself consider the notion once or twice. Okay, maybe more since he’d met Sofi. 

“I think I’d like to. Try at least and see what happens.” 

“Good, because I’m overdue for my birth control hypo and I want to fuck you so bad right now.”

Per usual, she managed to drop his jaw to approximately the level of his knees. That was his Sofi, always direct. She never did anything by half. 

“Take your clothes off and sit down,” she commanded, nodding towards the bed. He raised an eyebrow slightly but complied. She knew he liked it when she was a little bossy in bed, and today was no exception, if the state of him was any indication. 

She stripped her clothes off in front of him, slowly, backing away when he reached out to touch her. 

Thire was obviously feeling better, because the look in his eyes was hungrier than she’d ever seen it. Oh, this was going to be fun. She made her way over to her closet to where Thire’s pile of discarded clothes still sat. He’d gotten in the habit of leaving his civilian clothes at her place, but never got in the habit of folding them. When he left, she hadn’t had the heart or energy to get rid of them. 

She bent to search through the pile, giving him quite the show and he practically growled. But he stayed put on the edge of the bed, slowly stroking himself as he watched her. 

Finally she found what she was looking for. The worn leather belt he’d worn on their second date. She strolled lazily back to him, belt in hand, and grabbed his wrist, yanking his hand off himself. He got the idea pretty quickly.

“Can I tie you up?”

“Hells...yes,” he replied. She pushed him back so he was lying flat, arms above his head and used the belt to strap his wrists together. The muscles in his arms looked delicious like this. She traced her hands down them and sighed. 

“Too tight?” He shook his head no.

“Pretty,” she remarked, “Be good and stay still for me, Thire.” He interrupted her before she could start in on him. 

“Sit on my face. Want you to come first.” Her core clenched, and she smirked at him. “Please,” he begged, smirking back at her. The little shit.

“Well since you asked so nicely.”

She straddled his talented mouth and he licked into her, circling her entrance with his tongue, pressing it into her. He knew exactly how to drive her insane, even without using his hands. 

“Ah…” he nosed up to her clit and she swore under her breath, closing her eyes against the pleasure and gripping the headboard. Already, her legs were starting to shake, but he was relentless, grinding his tongue on her clit with maddening pressure until she was the one panting and begging and then she came with a breathless sigh. 

When she finally came down from her high she bent to kiss him, tasting herself on his lips, slipping her tongue in his mouth, careful not to touch his cock yet. Sofi liked seeing - and hearing - him desperate for her.

“Should I give you what you want?” He just groaned in response as she finally took his cock in her hand, stroking gently. By the look of the muscles in his neck, he was certainly desperate.

“I guess I’ll take that as a yes,” she said, centering herself over him. Thire gained a little composure back and their eyes met.  _ Gods, she was crazy about him. _ She’d never felt safer or more cared for in her entire life - she loved him and she loved him so  _ kriffing  _ much - and looking in his eyes now he saw her feelings mirrored there - in the deep glowing brown of his eyes, the tiny smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, trusting her completely. 

Without breaking eye contact, she took him inside her fully, just pausing for a moment and reveling in the feeling of their bodies joined together. His hips gave an involuntary jerk, pushing father inside and rubbing her clit against his abdomen and it spurred her to move, riding him until she was breathless again. Somehow he’d freed his hands, because suddenly she felt them in her hair and he was tugging her down to kiss him. 

She could feel him getting closer now, and she let him take the reins, allowing his warm calloused hands to grip her hips and thrust up into her, deep and slow. Together they found a rhythm and Sofi lost herself in him, listening to his breath come harsher and harsher, feeling his grip on her hips tighten until he came with a groan, pulling her hips down onto his as he filled her. 

Resting her hands on the hard planes of his chest, she stilled, curled over and catching her breath. Warm hands stroked her thighs and rearranged her onto her side, facing Thire, whose stamina was decidedly better than hers. He wasn’t even breathing hard anymore. Languidly, she tipped her chin up for a kiss and snuggled into him, deciding to stay in the moment for just a few more moments before they started their day.

\------

[2 months later]

The speeder thrummed under him, a fitting companion to his buzzing thoughts. Sofi had been acting strange that morning. She’d never been much of a morning person, but this morning had been different. 

For one, she had Ryshcate for breakfast. One of her new coworkers sent the sticky Corellian pastry home with her a few nights ago, and she'd had _two_ pieces with her caf that morning Second, she’d practically booted him out the door, bouncing on the tips of her toes like she was late for work. Which she wasn’t, he knew. It was her day off. 

Something was definitely up. 

Even though she  _ knew _ they were trying to get pregnant, Sofi was still nervous staring at that stupid stick lying on the fresher counter. Pretty much every friend she knew had at least one scare, including her, and those three minutes waiting for the simple little test to develop had probably been some of the longest minutes of her life, though nowadays they were second to those minutes waiting for news after Thire had gotten shot. 

She’d splurged on a little more expensive test, for no reason at all except that she felt hopeful. They’d only been trying for two months, really she didn’t expect it to happen this soon. People tried for years sometimes without any luck, and she’d just gone off her hypo. The elderly woman who owned the shop down the street, Hellah, had given her a soft knowing look when she had taken her credits. Sofi had bought some other little things along with the tests so she looked less suspicious - why, she couldn’t know - but at least she had some chocolate now if she needed it. 

It was way too early to have any major symptoms. She was just _late_. Really late. Thire was working and she didn’t want to take a test with him there, for whatever reason her brain had conjured up. They’d both obviously contributed, but for some reason this felt private. Secret even. Before now, a pregnancy test was always something you hid from men until there was something to tell, so they didn’t have to worry. 

He’d get all excited and then she didn’t want to see his disappointment if the test was negative. So she’d sent him off to work with caf and a kiss on the cheek and rushed to the little corner store as soon as he was gone. 

The test bleeped insistently and she could hear her heart beating in her ears all of a sudden.  _ Why are you so nervous? You’ve taken tests before _ . _ It doesn’t really matter what the test says, anyway _ . Even though she knew what she wanted it to say. But they hadn’t been trying for that long, she didn’t even know why she was doing this. She stopped trying to bargain with herself and just looked at the kriffing test.

_ Pregnant :) _

Pregnant, she was pregnant. Holy kriff. She stared at the window for a moment, trying to let the word sink in. That was fast. Thire was gonna lose his mind. After they’d talked a few months ago, he’d been a lot more on board than she thought. 

The revelation kept hitting her in waves. She didn’t  _ feel _ much different, which was the weirdest part. She’d never felt so intensely happy and insanely terrified at the same time. Her head hit the wall behind her. 

Now she just had to tell Thire somehow. 

\------

Thire’s eyes were glued to the sono screen and she laughed softly. He had  _ never _ been exposed to this side of life before and it was kind of sweet to watch his reactions. He also hated hospitals, so his nervous energy was out the roof, but Thire put on a good face for her. She had purposely picked a clinic far away from her work, far away from prying coworkers and Thire’s traumatic memories. He’d never seen a sonogram before and kept asking the tech questions. 

Sofi, on the other hand, was used to seeing sonos. Scary ones. The emergency ward used them all the time, and rarely for this, but when they did it usually revealed something horrible. She half expected to see a lacerated liver show up, or other worse things she didn’t want to think about. But what she did see was even more shocking than that. 

She gasped and Thire broke his searing eye contact with the monitor. Thire was apparently beginning to catch on, as his face was approximately a hand’s length from the screen. This was completely new to him, but he always caught on incredibly quickly. Lately she’d sneaked peeks of what he was reading on his datapad before bed and it was always dry, statistical obstetrics manuals. It was no wonder he’d been a little grim and nervous before this appointment. 

“What?” he asked, “What is it?” By his panicked tone, it was obvious he’d done way too much reading after she’d broken the news, because now he was worried about every tiny thing that could go wrong. She turned to the sono tech. 

“Am I seeing what I think I’m seeing?” Sofi asked grimly. The tech laughed a little, fiddling with the sensor on her still-flat stomach. Thire was still looking oppressively somber and reached out to place his hands over hers. 

“It’s definitely what you think.” She smiled kindly and pointed at the screen. “Heart here,” said the tech, touching the screen, then adjusted the sensor, “and a second here.”  _ Oh gods _ . Thire squeezed her hands in his. Twins. Their relationship was still full of surprises, it seemed. 

He was looking down at her like she’d hung all the stars in the galaxy and she couldn’t help but start giggling incredulously. Thire’s deep laugh joined in with hers and the sono tech smiled and looked away, letting them have a little moment to themselves.

\--

“Isn’t two good?” he asked, more confused than he’d been since he was a cadet. He didn’t know  _ anything _ about medicine,and he was trying to learn as fast as he could. The twin chapter hadn’t come up yet. He supposed he was lucky Sofi knew enough for the both of them. More than enough, he sometimes thought. 

She tended to be anxious about illness and injuries, even more so after he got shot. Maybe she’d want to stay home for a little while when the baby -  _ babies _ , he corrected himself, still a little stunned - were little. Her doctor sent them home with approximately a million pamphlets and Sofi got about as many blood tests. 

He thanked the maker he was a man. 

“No Thire, in this case two isn’t always better than one,” she sighed, “but I’m still happy.” She squeezed his hand as they walked together out of the clinic.

“Me too.” Looking down at the little black and white flimsi, he studied the two little beans. “Look at them! They’re so small.” Two.  _ Two  _ babies. 

The Coruscant Guard has been exposed to  _ more _ than regular troops. The first time he and Stone were on patrol and saw a pregnant humanoid, they thought something was seriously wrong. But now he was used to it, and was secretly glad that he wasn’t the one who was doing the hard work in this situation. Because it made him a little green to think about how two babies were going to fit in one person. 

  
  
  
  
  



End file.
